The other Pyr seemed to share his doubts. When Sebastian’s tongue slid across his lips, Balthasar moved between Hadrian and the new arrival; Rafferty tucked Melissa behind himself and stood before Eithne, his posture protective. Niall and Thorolf similarly barricaded Alasdair from view.
Sebastian surveyed them all with thinly veiled amusement. “A little too late to be defensive, don’t you think?” he asked and eased into the chair that Rafferty had abandoned. He templed his fingers together and braced his elbows on the table, watching them all with glittering eyes. He didn’t seem to be quite real.
“One of the vampires,” Rhys murmured to Lila and she nodded as if she’d already guessed.
Sebastian inclined his head slightly, an indication that he’d overheard. He was taut and emanated a chilling anger despite his lightly spoken words. Rhys guessed that he was furious about either the loss of the book or of Sylvia and wondered which it was.
“Your wine cellar is admirable,” Sebastian said to Rhys. “Perhaps if I had not been so lost in admiration, I might have arrived in time to avert disaster.” He shrugged and leaned back in the chair. Though his pose was casual, he looked ready to pounce and Rhys couldn’t ignore his annoyance. “Perhaps not.”
Sebastian’s gaze lingered on the unconscious Hadrian, then on Alasdair, who was still muttering quietly. Niall and Thorolf had gotten him into a booth and he was barricaded between them, shaking his head as he ceaselessly talked nonsense.
Sebastian lifted a brow, as if surprised that the Pyr could be wounded, then nodded at Eithne, who was still holding Lila’s stone. “Don’t let me interrupt. I do love story time, especially if there are magick tricks, too.” He widened his eyes mockingly, his disdain clear.
Why had he turned up at all?
“I will tell the truth, not a story,” Eithne said fiercely. “It will be the last thing I do.”
Sebastian inclined his head. “Is that why you dither over the telling? Because you don’t want to die?”
Color touched Eithne’s pale cheeks. “I was taught that it was forbidden to speak of these matters to those who were not adepts. It’s not easy to overcome old habits.”
“But what is being done to your acolyte while you wallow in indecision?” Sebastian asked coolly.
Was Sylvia the witch’s apprentice? If so, Rhys had missed that part.
“She is not my acolyte.”
“Believe what you need to.” Sebastian was dismissive and mocking. “Maybe you could find encouragement in the prospect of increasing her chances of survival, regardless of her role?”
“Of course, I do.”
Sebastian waved a hand, then looked pointedly at the large clock on one wall. “Tick tock,” he murmured, those eyes glinting. Rhys wondered what he knew and doubted he’d share. He had the sense that Sebastian was worried about Sylvia, which surprised him. He didn’t think vampires cared about mortals, other than as a food source.
He didn’t think vampires cared about anyone but themselves.
Eithne took a deep breath and turned Lila’s stone in her hand. She whispered to it and there was a quick flicker that Rhys might have imagined. The second flicker was longer and more vehemently red. He knew he didn’t imagine that. She continued to speak softly, her words indistinguishable to him even with his keen Pyr hearing. Maybe they were in a language he didn’t know. Rhys bent closer, trying to listen, but still couldn’t make out the words. He saw Rafferty leaning closer, eyes narrowed, as well.
Silver flickered on Hadrian’s cheek, like electrical sparks. At first they seemed random, but then they gathered momentum and Rhys saw the outline of a kiss, like a lipstick stain, on Hadrian’s face. It was purple at first, then lightened to blue as the sparks were drawn out of it. The sparks turned red when they collided with the stone, endlessly rolling in Eithne’s hand. Her words flowed like a lullaby and he understood that she was summoning the magick out of the kiss.
Everyone was silent and transfixed.
Suddenly the kiss flared red. Hadrian’s skin looked particularly pale around it. Rhys saw a jolt of silver light leap to the stone. The kiss shone then, like skin that had been burned, but the color had been drawn from it.
“That is the best I can do,” Eithne said, her words faint.
Was it enough? Hadrian’s breathing changed and his color improved. Balthasar looked at Lila and she nodded agreement. He bent then and began to stitch Hadrian’s wound. Lila frowned, though, and Rhys knew there was more to the wound than that.
Someone applauded slowly, and Rhys could guess who it was.
“Brava!” the vampire said with sarcasm and stopped his clapping. “Perhaps we could pick things up a bit and get to the good part.”
Eithne granted him a poisonous glance.
“Will there be snacks?” Sebastian asked, unrepentant.
“I doubt I have anything on the menu you’d like,” Rhys replied.
“I doubt you do,” Sebastian agreed with a laugh. His fangs showed and maybe his point had been to remind everyone of his nature. Rhys doubted any of them would forget. He had a distinct scent, at least one the other Pyr would discern as clearly as Rhys did. He smelled hollow and almost dead, like bones bleached in the sun. He glanced at the wounded Pyr. “I’ve never had a taste for dragon, lucky for all of you.”
Eithne straightened in her seat and cleared her throat. “I was taught that magick is the ability to anticipate, influence, alter or control the future,” she said and the Pyr moved to assemble at the table again.
Hadrian had awakened while Balthasar had been binding his wound. Balthasar and Rhys helped him to the seat Sylvia had occupied; Balthasar sat beside Hadrian, vigilant. Alasdair remained with Niall in a booth against the far wall, but seemed calmer. Lila and Rhys took the same seats they had occupied earlier, Lila beside Eithne, and Rhys beside her. Drake moved to sit at Rhys’ left. Rafferty took the chair to the left of his original seat, now occupied by Sebastian, and Melissa sat between him and Balthasar. Thorolf swaggered to the table, glared at Sebastian, then sat between the vampire and Drake.
Sebastian smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”
“Bite me,” Thorolf retorted and Rhys bit back a smile.
Eithne cleared her throat, then resumed, her voice no more than a whisper on the wind. “You may be surprised to learn that magick is found on almost all sentient planets. Magick is linked to life itself. Perhaps it is an innate urge in all creatures, great and small, to control the future, to influence their own situation, to affect change in their environment, to make their universe a little better. We find magick in many various manifestations but it is always there: the urge is key. Each planet, each society, each life form, has its own variation.”
She took a sip of water and fell silent for a long moment. Then she began to spin the stone on the table, holding it in place with her index finger. She murmured her charm again and Rhys felt a strange tingling in his feet. He looked down to see silver sparks emanating from him, as well as from Hadrian’s feet.
Lila watched as if fascinated.
Sebastian mimicked the ticking of a clock.
Eithne’s eyes flashed but she spoke again, continuing to spin the stone on the table top. “Earth magick originates here, on the planet you call Earth. It was developed or discovered by those beings innate to this planet. It is of the Earth.”
“Is that important?” Thorolf asked.
Eithne nodded. “Magick generally does not transfer well to systems other than the one where it was developed. This is because the imported magick doesn’t derive from the essence of that system or mirror that society’s assumptions.”
“So, we’re talking about alien magick, too?” Thorolf said when she paused again. “Like, from space?”
“Your own prophecies list three kinds of magick,” Sebastian said with impatience. “What do you think the difference is between them?”
“The creatures who developed them?” Rafferty guessed. “There’s earth magick, dragon mag
ick and darkfire. That’s Fae, Embron and Blazion, and the Pyr.”
Sebastian shook his head. “It’s origin, all right, but not by species.” His eyes shone as if he would challenge them with his assertion. “By planet.”
“Whoa,” Thorolf said. “You’re shitting us.”
Sebastian glared at him. “I do not shit anyone, thank you very much, dragon boy. Such bodily functions are no longer my concern.”
“Right,” Thorolf muttered. “Because sucking people dry is so much less disgusting.”
The pair glared at each other, then Eithne pointedly cleared her throat.
“He is right,” she said. “Earth magick is from earth. What you call dragon magick is actually Regalian magick, from Regalia, which I brought to this system, and the twin princes, Embron and Blazion, released here.”
Rhys blinked. Embron and Blazion had come from another world? His fellow Pyr, with the exception of Hadrian, looked less surprised than he felt. He assumed they’d heard at least part of the story already, probably while he and Hadrian were in Fae.
He had to catch up.
Thirteen
“I learned the origins of magick when I was an acolyte at Nimue, sent there from my home planet of Regalia because of my natural abilities. I was distinct among my kind for my ability to anticipate future events. This marked me as one to be trained further and ultimately resulted in my being accepted at Nimue. There I learned and trained in the manipulation of possibilities and probabilities, and honed my skills. I should have known after all my training that to share my magickal power was wrong, to bring it to another system was wrong, and to surrender it to those who had not been trained to wield it, could only result in disaster. And so it has.”
Sebastian yawned elaborately, but Eithne ignored both him and the little spinning motion he made with one finger. “We don’t need your curriculum vitae, darling,” he drawled.
Eithne pinched her lips together but didn’t reply to that. “I have told Rafferty about my journey from Incendium as the custodian of the twin royal princes Embron and Blazion, who were exiled for the crime of being related to a jealous tyrant of a king. It was a long journey and I chose to give them each a gift, these two handsome dragon shifter princes of whom I convinced myself I was fond.”
“You surrendered your magick to them,” Sebastian said and held up his hands. “Big mistake. Epic. Super-sized.”
“We get it,” Thorolf told him and they glared at each other again.
“Maybe I should try dragon again,” Sebastian threatened softly. “Just to be sure my tastes haven’t changed.”
“Go ahead and try,” Thorolf replied.
“You can argue later,” Rhys reminded them. “Listen now.” Eithne looked more frail than she had and had shrunk in the telling of her tale. She was paler and more wispy somehow. Rhys was reminded of an elderly bird.
She continued to spin the stone and the silver flashes of light continued to be drawn to it. His feet already felt a million times better.
“The truth was I knew very little of their characters—and less of their inclinations. When we reached earth, Blazion immediately used his innate powers for ill. He acted like one of your ancient gods, seizing whatever and whoever he desired, casting away what he no longer wanted, wreaking havoc for sheer pleasure. Embron released the magick I had given him, loosing it on a world unprepared for alien sorcery. I thought he was simply curious and naive about its effects. Blazion, inspired by his brother, did the same and between the two of them they turned this world upside down.”
Eithne ran a hand over her hair and Rhys saw new lines on her face: was she aging before his eyes? “Regalian magick is infinitely more sophisticated than earth magick, or at least it was at that time. Earth magick was overwhelmed by the powers of the twin princes and driven underground along with the Fae. When the Pyr decided to control—or attempt to control—Blazion and Embron, their earth magick merged with what had come to be called dragon magick to create the force of darkfire.”
“This is where the Cantor enters the tale,” Rafferty said.
“He does,” Eithne agreed. “The Cantor of the Pyr was the most sophisticated wizard of your kind and among the most skilled on Earth. Pwyll was the first Cantor, but his oldest son, Myrddin, exceeded his father’s capabilities. Myrddin’s son, Uther, was said to be even more powerful than his father and so he led the Pyr who set out to destroy Blazion. They didn’t succeed, despite his abilities, because Blazion turned Uther’s own spell back upon the Pyr company.”
“They were the warriors trapped in an enchanted sleep in Blazion’s lair in Edinburgh,” Rafferty said.
Eithne nodded. “Which you awakened with darkfire.” She said this last word with gusto and spun the stone a little faster. Rhys was sure she was smaller than she had been, and even more pale. Sebastian looked vital in comparison to her.
“Wait a minute. I thought there were seven of them in Edinburgh,” Rhys noted and Rafferty nodded agreement. “Eithne just said there were eight in the company.”
“Uther was not among those enchanted,” Rafferty said, counting off the seven thieves on his fingers. “There was Malduc, Emyas, Garth, Raynald, Evrain, Bedwyr and Roderick.”
“Maybe you should find Uther,” Sebastian said, as if that might be readily done.
Eithne shook her head. “A wizard who hides isn’t easily found, as he has already proven. It has been fifteen hundred years and none of you know anything of him.”
“Touché,” Sebastian said, bowing his head to her.
“But isn’t Uther dead?” Rafferty asked, looking between the vampire and the witch.
“What difference would that make?” Sebastian asked, impatience in his tone again. “You talk to Pwyll, don’t you?”
Rafferty was visibly startled. He probably hadn’t thought the vampire would know such a thing.
Thorolf shook his head. “This is getting weird,” he muttered and Sebastian chuckled.
“Wait for it,” the vampire advised. “Or maybe I should say ‘hold my beer’, to speak in the vulgar idiom you best understand.”
Thorolf put his fists on the table. “If you’ve got something to say...” he began but Rafferty gestured for him to sit down. He did, but folded his arms across his chest, and shot dark glances at Sebastian. The vampire appeared to be amused. He bared his teeth and Thorolf’s eyes flashed.
“You were telling us about magick,” Rhys reminded Eithne.
Eithne nodded again, her eyelids drooping. She seemed to be fighting exhaustion, but kept spinning the stone. It moved more slowly now and her voice was so soft that everyone leaned closer to hear her words. “There is no reason for magick to have a physical manifestation in its own right. It is an impulse, an energy, a command or a manifestation of desire. Yet in many systems, magick does impact the senses. It may appear as a glow of red light or a shimmer like starlight.”
“Or a flash of silver light,” Sebastian said, then sighed with tolerance. He made the spinning motion with his hand again.
“It may emanate a sound like falling snow or tinkling bells. It may change the ambient temperature when it is at work. It may cause another reaction in particularly sensitive individuals in the vicinity—”
“By the pricking of my thumbs,” Rafferty said with a smile.
Eithne inclined her head in acknowledgement of that. “Exactly. Or shivers, what humans call someone walking over their grave. There is no reason for this, except that perhaps the magician wishes his or her influence to be known. I would argue that the most insidious and terrifying magick is that which leaves no sign and cannot, in fact, be discerned at all.”
Once again, Sebastian yawned elaborately. “Wake me when you get to the point,” he muttered.
Eithne frowned down at the spinning stone. “One commonality that we find in many societies with regards to their magick is that it can be stored in natural receptacles.” Everyone else looked at Lila’s stone, too. “On Regalia, quartz is used to store magick, quart
z like the orbs in the pommels of the daggers presented to the twin princes. I poured my magick into those orbs to give it to them, and Embron retrieved one from Blazion’s lair in Edinburgh.”
“Two? Where’s the other one?” Rhys asked, thinking of the prophecy.
“It must have shattered. Embron summoned all of my magick into the orb in his possession. That could only be done if its twin orb was destroyed.”
“How?” Rhys asked.
“The forceful withdrawal of its magick might have broken it.” She sighed. “It was a magnificent spectacle. He was stunning. I would never have imagined...” Her voice faded and the stone stopped spinning.
Was Embron’s crystal orb the other stone mentioned in the prophecy?
Eithne continued. “Here on Earth, the Fae used amber as a receptacle for magick. The gem of the hoard is a particularly marvelous specimen of amber and became the greatest receptacle for their magick.
“And the Cantor used quartz crystals for the darkfire,” Rafferty said. “We used a smoky quartz crystal recently to re-gather the darkfire.”
“Yes,” Eithne said. “When the stone receptacle is shattered, the magick is released. It scatters throughout that world and only a powerful sorcerer can gather it back together again, if it can be done at all. It’s never destroyed. It’s dispersed and gathered, over and over again.” She nodded at Rafferty. “Your Cantor had a potent command over the darkfire.”
“He did,” Rafferty acknowledged.
“But there’s one more thing you must know,” Eithne said, her voice raspy. “There was a time when the Fae poured their magick into the gem of the hoard, concentrating it so that its power could be harnessed and held by one individual. At the same time, Blazion strove to gather the dragon magick from Regalia again, although he had to compete with Embron for it. There were those of us concerned for the fate of all kinds when magick might be commanded by a few. So, we used the affinity of magick for stone to empower certain talismans. We couldn’t give the receptacles much magick, but we gave them enough for prophecy, so that the Others could warn themselves and choose their paths more wisely. Each kind had its talisman, and though each kind had a tale of how that talisman came to be in their possession, the truth is that they all came from this secret confederation of sorcerers who feared the battle between the Dark Queen and the twin princes.”
Dragon's Heart (The DragonFate Novels Book 3) Page 24